Throw in the towel while you're at it
by Hagane
Summary: Rukawa has an offer Mitsui can't refuse. (RuMit)


Title: Throw in the towel while you're at it.

Pairing: RuMit

Fandom: SlamDunk

Theme: #16- invincible/unrivalled

Summary: Because when it came down to it, he really was unbeatable.

_for 30 kisses _

* * *

Some people called him a whore, because sometimes he fucked around to get what he wanted. He didn't care. To them he was cheap, to him, it was necessary. It was a cruel world out there, and there were monsters craving for his blood. If he wanted to outrun them, he had to outrun the competition first. Who cared how he did it. The point was, he did. 

How else would he be standing here, basking in the glory of fame and fortune?

Mitsui was no fool. He knew that sometimes he had to degrade himself in order to elevate his status. That was a price to pay. A small price, relatively. He lost, but he gained some back.

As the cameras flashed, he smiled, flashing his even, perfect teeth.

--

Rukawa swung his legs leisurely as he lay stomach-down on his bed. He was flipping through a teen magazine idly, waiting for the maid to call him down for lunch. The only reason why he was bothering with such a horrid medium was because there was nothing better to read (or flip through, rather) aside from his school texts (and that was a definite no, as far as he was concerned).

His hand moved to lift the page, but froze as his eyes fell on that handsome face smirking up at him from print.

Cute, he thought, so cute.

And he happily perused the article, greedily absorbing all the information to store away in his mental folders.

--

"Hisashi-kun!" a reporter waved frantically for his attention from the back of the conference room, practically standing atop her chair as she vied with the competition. "Hisashi-kun!"

"Yes?" he leaned forward and drawled slowly into the microphone, an easy smile playing on his lips.

"Are the rumours about you and Haruko Akagi true?" the lady reported asked, nearly falling off the chair in her excitement.

"Which ones?" he countered, cocking his head to the side. His response earned him laughter from those present.

"The one-" she struggled to stay upright, and to be heard over the din, "the one that says she's bearing your child!"

"Hmmmm?" Mitsui tapped a finger to his lips, considering. "I haven't heard that one."

More laughter.

"So it isn't true?" she asked desperately, her chair tipping precariously to the side.

"Maybe," he answered teasingly.

"Hisashi-kun," another reporter succeeded in making herself stand out from the rest, "I'm Hikoichi Aida from Dream Teen (1) Magazine. I was wondering if you could answer some of my questions."

He flashed her a thumbs-up.

"Urm," she coughed, "recently there have been talks about you leaving your recording company. Is this true?"

He looked at her from under heavy lashes. "Yes," he spoke into the microphone. A hushed silence fell over the room as everyone gaped at him in disbelief.

"Will you be signing on with another company then?" she pressed.

"Maybe, but not now," was the mysterious reply.

"What are your plans for now then?"

"I'm going to take a few months break. Then, we'll see."

--

The television was blaring in his room and Rukawa sat on his bed, cross-legged, elbows resting on his lap and head cradled in his hands. He was staring intently at the screen, watching closely as they reported a live telecast of the press conference of the teen idol, Hisashi.

He was going to take a few months off. And then… we'll see.

Rukawa decided he had a plan. His sister was in the recording industry and she had very good contacts. Surely, she'd help.

--

Mitsui didn't bother stifling his yawn as he left the press conference, instead emphasising his point by stretching himself like a cat. His manager, Maki, shot him a wry look of amusement.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked his charge.

"Taking time off?" he grinned lazily, "Yepp. Sure am."

"You're planning something," Maki decided.

"Maybe."

"Quit being so mysterious and tell me," he scoffed, shoving the smaller man playfully.

"If I tell you it'll lose its mystery," Mitsui answered, swiping at the other's head.

"That's the point."

"So not the point."

They looked at each other, askance, before Maki cracked a smile and Mitsui snorted.

"Well," Maki began, "I'll know when the time comes."

Yeah, Mitsui nodded in agreement, of course you will.

--

He received a call a week and a half later from Maki. It was about some hotshot producer who wanted to meet him. Mitsui shrugged and said okay.

It wouldn't be his loss anyway.

--

His eyes widened in surprise as he neared the table. The boy, yes, the _boy_ stood up as he approached, offering his hand out in greeting. Mitsui took it wordlessly as he sat down, confounded.

"Are you the producer? Rukawa?" he asked, struggling to be polite.

The boy nodded.

_But you're so young! _He wanted to say but didn't. He knew etiquette. "Hisashi," he introduced himself, "Mitsui," he added as an afterthought.

"I know," he answered simply, gesturing for the waiter, "what will you have?"

Mitsui shrugged. "Today's special I guess."

"Appetisers, sir?" The waiter asked, "We've got some very nice ones that the chef created. It's very popular with the customers."

"Yeah. Okay."

Rukawa ordered the same thing he did, and the waiter went away, albeit reluctantly.

"You wanted to meet me," Mitsui started awkwardly.

"Yes." He answered honestly.

"Is there any particular reason for this interest?" he cut right to the chase. Sitting around in a five-star restaurant with a boy barely out of his teens did not sit well with him, and he was tempted to hightail out of there.

"I have an offer," Rukawa spoke slowly, taking his time to sweep his gaze over the other's sharp features. He was gorgeous in the pictures, and on television, but up close, he was just stunning.

"What sort of…offer?" his voice was laced with suspicion and he raised an eyebrow at the other.

"I could…" but he paused as the waiter returned with a tray of the much-acclaimed appetisers, and he watched with incredulity how he brushed his hands deliberately against the idol's as he placed the servings on the table. He lingered around for a while, eyes not leaving the star, and it was only after Rukawa shot him a death glare that he unwillingly left.

"I could," he continued, "make you an international superstar."

Mitsui's eyes widened just a little, and he sat back in his seat to regard the youth before him. Nonsense! He thought, entrusting my future to this child? No fucking way.

He leaned forward, and Rukawa imitated his movement so they were both hunched over the table, faces so close they could feel the other's breath. "What's the catch?"

The boy smiled.

--

He should be used to it, really. He was constantly prostituting himself to those who could get him places, so he should be used to it. This boy should be no different. He promised him fame and fortune, and in return he gave what the other wanted. Himself.

But lying under the kid, their bodies drenched in sweat, his fingers clenched tightly around the sheets, and the organ thrusting eagerly into him, he felt that somehow, this wasn't right.

--

As agreed, Rukawa helped him sign on a contract with the top labelling company in Japan, and he rocketed to international stardom in a matter of months. Maki was there, he always was, and they rode high on the waves of his huge success.

"What did you do?" his manager asked, "You had plans. What did you do?"

"Nothing really important," was his answer.

Maki looked like he didn't quite believe him, but thankfully, he didn't push it.

Mitsui wondered vaguely if he would do it again (2), and decided he would, because he was a whore for material wealth. He felt slightly guilty, but not enough to stop him. Because when it came right down to it, he really was unbeatable. Whore, or not.

He was Mitsui Hisashi, international superstar.

--

Rukawa swung his legs happily as he lay stomach-down on his bed, flipping idly through a magazine. He smiled as he came across the centrefold because it was a picture of his sweetheart (3) smirking up at him.

Cute, he thought, so cute.

--

And so, we're left wondering who won this game.

(1) Yes, it is a lame name, but magazines never made any sense.

(2) He hasn't found out yet that Rukawa isn't actually the producer. It's his sister. What he _does_ know is that the boy can get him places.

(3) He knows that Mitsui's his now.


End file.
